Change
by Wendy402
Summary: Love changes people; friendships change people; experience changes people; time changes people. She was everything: love, friendship, experience and time. She had changed him, and he could see it: the insipid scenery flashing by like his past, blots of black and white as his present. But above all, he could see flashes of red, green and blue for his future, because she was in it.
1. Chapter 1

**Random one-shot I thought of. Inspired by** _ **Maelstrom**_ **by** **My Hopeless Romantic. Hope you guys like it!**

 **Full Summary:** _Love changes people; friendships change people; experience changes people; time changes people; but none of that matters. Not to him, because she was everything: love, friendship, experience and time. She had changed him, and he could see it: the insipid scenery flashing by like his past, blots of black and white as his present. But above all those, he could see flashes of red, green and blue for his future, because she was in it._

* * *

 _"It is a rough road that leads to the heights of greatness." - Lucius Annaeus Seneca_

* * *

 _~Natsume Hyuuga. Age ten.~_

I was one of those people who travelled the world, who never seemed to stay in one place. My father's job required a lot of traveling, and as his family, my mom and I went along with him as well. The longest I've stayed in one place was for four years, but that was _way_ back, when I was probably still in pre-kindergarten or so.

Ever since I moved the second time, I gave up on making friends.

Friends were not particularly important to me. I wasn't antisocial, neither was I hard to get along with—though most people avoided me because I never seemed to be able to keep up with a conversation.

I just didn't want to bother with creating friendship, only to know it would break in the near future from the very beginning. It wasn't a very good feeling, so I kept my distance as much as I could without coming off as rude.

I treated life like a long, long road; there will always be a starting point, and there will always be an ending point—a goal, as some people would call it. Personally, I called it death.

I considered myself one of those people who did not speed up nor slow down, as I walked down that road, keeping a steady, but dull life. My past was like insipid scenery flashing by as I walked, blurry, because I never paid much attention to something that I had already went past.

Many thought the life of traveling around the world would be interesting and fun, but for me, it was tiresome and lonely.

 **~ :: :: ~**

I stood in front of my new classroom as I introduced myself to my new classmates. All eyes trained on me, but I was already used to it by now. Transferring in the last year of lower school was not something easy to do, but I wouldn't be staying here for very long anyway.

Finishing my introduction, the teacher assigned me a seat at the very back of the classroom, where the only empty seat was. I was delighted, because it was right next to the window, and somewhere where the teacher would not easily see me.

I spent the rest of my year in the very back corner, and it became my favorite spot.

The sun was warm and cozy during long summer afternoons, dappling blotches of yellow and orange on my desk, causing me to fall asleep often during class. Every time I got caught dozing, I blamed it on the seat.

I think the teacher got fed up with my excuses, so she rarely asked why I was so sleepy anymore, just telling me dryly, "Please don't fall asleep during class."

It was a failed attempt to keep me awake.

 **~ :: :: ~**

During the last day of fifth grade, there was barely anything left for us to do.

We spent the whole day doing anything we wanted, playing games, chatting, running around the hallways since it was our only chance to do that, and not get yelled at. There were ten minutes left before school would end, and I was too excited to fall asleep, even with the help of the warm sunlight and the soft chirping of the birds outside.

I stared at the clock that hung on top of the whiteboard and waited impatiently for the minute hand to move, counting the seconds.

The teacher clapped her hands twice loudly in the front of the room, trying to catch the class's attention. She had a cheerful glint in her eyes, and I mentally groaned, praying she would not make us do _work_ on the last day of school.

"Since it's the last day of school, I want to share something with all of you. This quote, "it is a rough road that leads to the heights of greatness," by Lucius Annaeus Seneca, is one of my favorite quotes ever. I hope all of you will remember this, and that no matter how hard things become, keep going, and everything will turn out better than you expected. I believe that you will all do great things in the future," She flashed us a proud smile. "I'm glad I was your teacher for fifth grade."

The classroom was silent as everyone tried to absorb the information.

A few people sniffed, and it occurred to me that they were actually _touched_ by this.

What she said meant nothing to me; I was not touched by this, and I did not believe in it. I snorted at her, apparently a little louder than I expected, and the whole classroom turned to stare at me.

"Is something funny, Hyuuga?" The teacher asked me, and I shook my head furiously, but continued chuckling.

"It's nothing."

* * *

 _~Natsume Hyuuga. Age fourteen.~_

In my fourth school, I started becoming more distant than ever to those around me.

Even _I_ noticed the changes in myself.

My parents started getting worried about my 'antisocial' behavior, but I insisted that I was nothing like that.

 **~ :: :: ~**

I stood in front of my new classroom as I introduced myself to my new classmates. All eyes trained on me, as I stood there casually. Keeping my facade on for another year wouldn't hurt, right? I won't be staying here for long anyways. That was what I always believed in, and I doubt I would ever change that belief.

In ninth grade, first year of high school, I believed, more than ever, in my theory of comparing life to a long, long road; where there will always be a starting point, and always an ending point—a goal, as some people would call it. Still, I called that 'goal,' death, the place every person will end up at, no matter how much they don't want it. It was just the reality.

 **~ :: :: ~**

In the middle of the school year, our english teacher gave us the most absurd topic I have ever seen for an essay—a 'short story,' as he called it.

He wrote in big, bold letters with one of those blue whiteboard markers on the board: _Essay Topic - Road of Life._ I almost choked on my own spit the second he read it out loud to the class with a bright grin on his face, and for a second I thought I was hearing things, until I looked up at the board, and almost wanted to bang my head against it.

 _How am I going to write this?_ I asked myself, and I had no idea. Write what I had always believed? That I was merely walking down the road of life without speeding up nor slowing down, keeping a steady, but dull life? I would definitely get a fail for an essay like that.

He continued explaining about the essay and the things he was looking for in it, as I started spacing out, thinking about how on earth I was supposed to write something like this.

Vaguely, I heard him say something about a quote by Lucius Annaeus Seneca, and I just stared at him blankly. Hearing that quote for the second time in my life, in the most ironic situations, I scoffed at him too.

This time, however, I intended for it to be loud enough for the whole class to hear. Why? I wasn't so sure as well. Perhaps I was starting to turn rebellious.

* * *

 _~Natsume Hyuuga. Age seventeen.~_

At the age of seventeen, life was hard; complicated, and almost everything was black and white to me.

Almost every male around me were either obsessed with getting a girlfriend, or getting laid. It was ridiculous, really. None of that mattered to me; I was one of those people classified as a 'freak.'

I admit that I was a _little_ different than the rest, since I was not used to staying in one place for a long time and my personality was rather... _unique_ , but really, calling me a freak was a little overboard.

My dad had promised me that I would be staying in this school _for sure_ until I graduated.

That, I was truly grateful for.

Bouncing around all over the place made it hard to keep up with school, though I did enjoy having "being new" as an excuse for not doing some of my homework.

In the second semester of eleventh grade, there was a new transfer student.

I was not very used to being introduced to a new student, since I was always one of them, but this was the first time I was the one sitting in a seat while staring at the new student, who was standing in front of the large classroom, nervously fidgeting and trying to hide her face from the rest of us...

...At least, that was what I was expecting.

Most students—excluding me, since I was so _special—_ were always nervous on their first day of being in a new school, but this girl was different.

She walked in with such confidence, with her head held high and her steps clicking off the floor boards loudly, I would have been convinced she was here every single day of her life if I didn't know.

She was small, smaller than most girls in our school. She had long, brunette hair that reached her mid-back, and lively, brown eyes. A friendly smile graced her lips as she stood in front of us, hands in clasped in front of her.

"Ah," our homeroom teacher greeted, looking up from his laptop. "You're here!" The girl gave him a slight nod and a grin, and a few whispers were heard behind be.

"Please, go ahead and introduce yourself to the class." The teacher instructed, and it seemed like the students were not the only ones eager to meet this person.

She walked a little further into the room, standing directly in front of me, standing casually, yet surprisingly straight.

"My name is Mikan Sakura. Nice to me you all!" She greeted, going on and on about herself.

I was bored out of my mind, and almost fell asleep as she talked, but she suddenly screamed, making me jump in my seat.

She laughed loudly at my reaction, and the rest of the class was just as surprised as I was from her outburst.

"Sorry," she apologized insincerely. "You were falling asleep, so I wanted to wake you up." I glared up at her, warning her to shut up, but she only gave me a small shrug and a huge grin. Something clicked, and somehow I knew she would be my first friend.

* * *

 _"NATSUME!"_ A sharp scream echoed through the hallways of the empty school, the orange tint of the dying sun illuminating the floor. I inwardly groaned as I stopped in my steps, waiting for her to catch up with me.

Heavy footsteps were heard as she bounded up the stairs, breathing hard when she finally came up behind me.

"You—" She wheezed. "You didn't wait for me!"

"I'm waiting for you _now_ , aren't I?" I rolled my eyes at her never-changing childish behavior.

"What did you want to show me?" She asked curiously as we walked down the long corridor.

"It's a surprise." I answered with a light smirk, earning a loud whine. Reaching the end of the hallway, I used the spare key the teacher gave me to open the sliding door, entering the art room.

Inside stood a single, large canvas sitting on top of a wooden easel. My latest artwork.

"It's beautiful." Mikan breathed as she walked towards the canvas, eyes examining every detail and brushstroke. Gently, she lifted her hand and traced the colors dried on the fabric. Her eyes furrowed. "But why black and white, _again?_ "

I shrugged my shoulders at her as I walked up next to her, staring at my artwork that I felt ridiculously proud of.

"Black and white is simple. It's how I see things."

"You're _so_ boring sometimes." She muttered as she stood back a foot, nodding at my work. "But it's amazing nonetheless. I can never make something look that good without color, and even _with_ color it isn't this good."

I shrugged again.

 **~ :: :: ~**

"You really like roads, don't you?" She asked the second we left school grounds and made our way to the dormitories.

"What?" I asked, confused at what she was talking about.

"All your paintings are paintings of different roads." She pointed out. "You really like them, don't you?"

"I guess." I answered halfheartedly. I haven't thought about it. She glanced at me from the corners of her eyes before grinning widely. She hopped in front of me, successfully stopping me.

"Natsume Hyuuga," she started, eyes gleaming as she wiggled her fingers at me playfully. "I have a challenge for you!"

"A challenge?" I raised my brows in curiosity, her words peeking interest in me.

"Yep!" She clasped her hands behind her back. "Draw me your future."

 _"What?"_ I had no idea what she was saying. How do you _draw_ the future? "That's a ridiculous prompt."

"There's nothing a painter like you can't paint." She beamed. "Deal?" I counted the pros and the cons of this stupid challenge, and decided it wouldn't hurt to try. Besides, she would probably call me a sissy for years on end if I declined.

"Fine." I sighed and she gave me a satisfied smile, eyes gleaming like stars.

"I'll give you two months to paint it. 'Kay?" I gave her a confident smirk as I shook my head at her, earning a confused stare.

"I just need one month." I stated as I shoved my hands in my pocket and strode to the dorms, leaving her grinning at me like a Cheshire cat.

 **~ :: :: ~**

"You finished already?" She gaped at me as I stared up at her from my desk.

"Yes." I answered for the nth time that afternoon.

"But it's only been a little more than half a month!" She exclaimed, piercing my ears painfully.

"I didn't have a lot of homework the past half month," I explained lazily, amused at her reaction. "What? You don't want to see it?" She gasped dramatically at that.

"Of _course_ I want to see it!" She clutched my arm tightly and dragged me up from my seat. "Come _on!_ " I chuckled lightly at her enthusiastic attitude that never seemed to change.

Running down the hallways, though it was against school policy, she opened the door to the art room excitedly. For the first time in my nineteen years, I was nervous.

She took long, slow strides towards the canvas, stopping only a few inches away. Her back was facing me, and I could not see her reaction.

"Do you...like it?" I asked sheepishly after a few moments of silence, tension building up inside of me.

"I—You—" She sniffed. It dawned to me that she was crying.

"You're...crying?" I walked over to her, watching her shoulders shake as she covered her mouth, trying not to cry out.

"Is that...me?" She asked quietly, touching the painting with the ends of her fingertips.

"It is." I answered quietly, watching her.

"It's gorgeous." She leaned her head against it. "It's in color."

"It is." I said again. "And it's a road again." She smiled.

"What did you want to convey in this picture?"

"You don't understand?" I breathed, a little disappointed. Perhaps color wasn't really my thing after all.

"I do." She stepped back again, examining the painting. "But I want to hear it from you."

I sighed.

"I treated life like a long, long road; there will always be a starting point, and there will always be an ending point. I was one of those people who did not speed up nor slow down and had a dull life. The insipid scenery flashed by like my past, blots of black and white as my present." I took a deep breath and licked my dry lips, gesturing towards the painting. "But above all those, I could see flashes of red, green and blue for my future...because you're in it."

"You've changed." She gave me a playful punch in the shoulder. "You're not just walking down that road without speeding up or slowing down anymore." I stared at her and she stared back with those large hazel eyes.

"You're running now." She whispered. "But I'll always be in front of you."

It was true, I thought surprisingly, as my eyes lingered on the painting. I had drawn her running towards a golden sunset, looking back over her shoulder, and seemed to look right into my eye. I smiled as she ran out the door with a laugh and I had no choice but to follow her.

I could practically see myself change as I looked from my artwork from before an after. Black and white to color.

I smiled.

Maybe color _was_ my thing after all.

* * *

 **I couldn't think of a good ending, so sorry. Please don't send me complaints on how it kinda died at the end. I tried! So how was it? Did you guys like it? Comments, suggestions, critics are all very welcome!**

 **P.S: Shameless advertisement here ^.^ If any of you read/watch/like Kamisama Hajimemashita, please check out my KH fics! I just uploaded a new one-shot called Time. ;)**

 **R &R Please!**

* * *

 **The next chapter is an _author's note,_ a reply to a rude guest review. Read on if you're curious, stop if you don't want to do or know anything.**


	2. Author's Note

**ATTENTION!** **This is an** ** _author's note_** **, as the title suggested. This is a reply (or rather a rebuttal) to a rather...** ** _rude_** **guest review. If you don't really care or anything, please do not read on. If you're curious and all, you're very welcome to read on.**

 **Sadly, I was on a school trip for a week, so I was unable to reply to the guest review earlier. I would have replied earlier if I was allowed to bring my computer but, meh. I don't even know if the person will even read this, but this is just for me to feel better, because I'm** ** _itching_** **to rebut. FYI I'm in the Debate Club.**

 **To the guest review: F*** YOU.**

 **Just kidding.**

 **Ok I'm done messing around.**

 **You said that you "accepted [your] best friend's dare to read the first FanFiction that just posted" and happened to come across mine. But that's odd, because you reviewed on May 4th, and I posted this story on May 2nd. Are you telling me that in a span of** ** _two_** **days, GA never had any new stories posted? GA is a pretty popular anime/manga and has over 13K stories. Everyday there are at least 5 new stories posted (maybe or maybe not exaggerated). How would my story still be first?**

 **~::~**

 **"Just Five Words: You call this shit writing?"**

 **Yes, I call this shit writing, because I spent a shit load of time writing this story that you call shit. Everyone have different opinions about writing. For example, some people love Shakespeare, but I personally don't really understand it. Some people love Twilight, but others make fun of it. It's like art in a museum. I never really understand why abstract art can sell for such high prices; all I see is a blob of paint or some other stuff. But I don't insult it. I don't spit on it or step on it and call it shit. I merely say 'I don't get it' and move on.**

 **Also, if my writing was** ** _perfect_** **or absolutely** ** _incredible_** **, I believe I would have published an actual book and became beyond famous.**

 **~::~**

 **"I chose Gakuen Alice and I read your crap. It literally KILLED me."**

 **Actually, I don't really care about this sentence, other than the fact you called this crap. Fine, you don't like it. Good for you! I totally understand that people have different opinions on things (as I stated above) and I've read a lot of stories that aren't 'very good.' But you know? People spend lots of time writing these and they treat their stories like their 'babies.' Don't go around and start insulting the fruit of their work. I never insult them. I just furrow my brows and maybe cringe after reading them, but I never review and say 'wow wtf was this you should just die.'**

 **The second part of your review...yeah. I don't really care. As you've said, it killed YOU. Which means it doesn't really affect me. Congrats!**

 **~::~**

 **"God, damn it, can you please get better at writing?"**

 **I** ** _will_** **and** ** _am_** **getting better at writing. Every** ** _sentence_** **I write has improvement. I mean, if you compare my current on-going stories with my first ever posted one, pretty obvious improvement. You don't need to ask for it. Your wish has been granted. Thanks for using 'please' though, I appreciate it. :)**

 **~::~**

 **Ok I just** ** _have_** **to say this. You didn't like my writing, you criticized it—or rather, you insulted it—but your review contained grammar mistakes. If you want to insult me and my story, can't you at least write your review with better** ** _grammar?_**

 **Here, "God, damn it, can you please get better at writing?" There is no need for a comma after 'God.' Also, technically it's 'goddammit' or 'God dammit' but if you want three separate words that works too.**

 **"I seriously accepted my best friend's dare to read the first FanFiction that just posted." It's 'that WAS just posted.' You're missing a word.**

 **I wish you reviewed as a member of Fanfiction. It would be much easier to reply and all. I'm just wondering if you** ** _have_** **an account and was scared I would report you or something. If that's true, you would be a real coward. That is,** ** _if_** **what I said was true. I don't blame you for not having an account,** ** _if_** **you** ** _really_** ** _didn't_** **have an account. But if you** ** _do_** **have an account, I wish you would tell me your pen-name so I can check out your stories. I believe if you wrote, they would be really,** ** _really_** **good right? Because you have such high expectations for stories and love to step on other people. I would definitely learn** ** _lots_** **if I read some of your stories.**

 **~::~**

 **Alright, I'm done blabbering. I hope those who were curious enough to read this had fun reading it. Maybe it's just me, but I love reading different arguments. *Shrug* I hope I didn't come off really, really rude, but I mean, someone** ** _did_** **just insult my work not-too-nicely. You guys are always free to comment, whether you are on my side or on the guest's side; just please,** ** _please_** **do not degrade yourself into flaming. I suddenly have the urge to sing the Taylor Swift song: "the haters gonna hate, hate, hate."**

 **Have a good day everyone, and hope you guys don't get any flames.**


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